


Ius Divinum Reges

by feckyeswriting (firelord65)



Series: Vivat Rex [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Jealous Kylo Ren, Knight Champion Kylo, Knight Rey, Multi, Polyamory, Regent Hux, political machinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/feckyeswriting
Summary: The Divine Right of KingsLord Regent Matias Hux is tired of waiting. He’s tired of being choked by the command of a dying King who cannot see past his own legacy. He’s tired of being unable to act. His newest Knight, Rey of Jakku, and his most loyal defender, Knight Champion Kylo Ren, may be the tools he needs to take what he deserves.





	Ius Divinum Reges

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Reylux Not-Bang. Check out the AO3 collection and the Reylux-Not-Bang tumblr for more content (officially finished by Feb 14th)
> 
> This is a sequel to a fic written pre-Armitage-gate, so Hux’s given name is Matias in this for artistic (read: trying too hard) reasons. Also, please do check out La Vita Primus first, if you’ve stumbled upon this one! You CAN read this without the other, but this is second chronologically.

The starkness of the chamber unsettled Hux. His shoes made hardly a sound on the carpeted floor. The King’s ailment made him sensitive to cold, to heat, to any inconvenience. Hux felt his lip curl as he regarded the room around him. What should have been a place of luxury had been relegated to sterility and necessity. A washbasin sat by the door, weeks of water staining the wooden surface of the cabinet it had been sat upon. Hux refused to dip his fingers in the water; he would rather remain distant from the King than subject himself to whatever disease may be lurking in the basin. The royal physicians were effective, but not infallible.

He still had to approach the King’s bedside. The massive construct had not been spared from alteration once he had fallen ill. Heavy curtains now encircled the wooden frame. In the firelight they looked a funeral shroud. It suited the dying King. 

“Matias. You’ve finally come.” His very speech was threadbare and worn, much like his sheets. Hux inclined his head and crossed the final stretch to stand at the foot of King Snoke’s bed. 

“Of course, your highness,” he muttered. “My time has been stretched thin, and I did not wish to disturb you by visiting late in the evening once I had any to spare.” It was a lie. He was the regent of the land. Of course he could have spared the time to visit the man whose rule he represented. 

Inside the blood red drapery, Hux could see the king’s head. It nearly floated in the darkness, pale and lifeless. He turned to cough into a handkerchief. Hux resisted the urge to step back farther.  _ His body is ruined by the rot, but the ailment cannot spread any more than a fish can fly _ , the physicians had insisted. 

His coughs continued for a long minute before Snoke could finally turn back to address Hux. “You made time to sit at a carnival. Am I less entertaining than brawling brutes or dancing harlots?” the king snarled. His snake-like tongue had not been tempered by the rot. Always striking, Snoke was. 

Hux lifted one shoulder. “I did not need your counsel to watch brawls or dances. Nor did the kingdom need your thoughts on them, either. The people have been distracted. All has been going according to what your advisors have decreed,” Hux said. 

“My advisors do not speak my voice. You obey me, not them,” Snoke wheezed. The venom was subdued by another round of hacking coughs. From the shadows, a red-garbed physician approached. They guided a small potion to the king’s mouth and disappeared once he tipped it back with eyes squeezed shut. Hux’s fingers itched at the ends of his sleeves. 

“You speak for me,” Snoke repeated. His eyes glinted wetly in the dark of his curtained cave as he opened them once more. No matter how sterile the room was rendered moisture seeped in. Hux’s fingers rubbed together. He wanted to be gone from here where he could rid himself of the sensation.

“Of course,” Hux said between gritted teeth. If only Snoke could get to the point of all of this. 

Snoke shifted on the bed. Hux prepared himself for another round of coughing and was pleasantly surprised when none came. The potion was working, if only for a short time. Soon enough the illness would take over again, leaving behind the husk that Hux so despised being tethered to. “I feel that you do not truly appreciate the distinction, Matias. You’ve grown lax in your considerations,” the king drawled. He had to use both hands to keep himself propped against the headboard. 

“If there is something I have done outside of your wishes, please let it be known,” Hux replied sharply. He’d grown beyond impatient with the old man’s demands. Snoke was being given the best care possible to ease his dying. What more could he care about? What did it matter to him how the kingdom was being run?

Why couldn’t he just die already?

Snoke laughed. It fought with the mucus in his throat, spattering wetly inside his mouth before finally making it to open air. “But how can I do that when you will not come when asked? You have forgotten your place, Regent,” Snoke said. 

“I am where you placed me, my king,” Hux responded, the words automatic and defensive. He wasn’t prepared for this line of thought. The king had never openly questioned his regent.

“You are not the head of this kingdom, and you will do well to remember that. You are my hand. You do my bidding, not your own,” Snoke rasped. 

Tilting his head, Hux couldn’t resist himself. “Hands can hold leashes just as well to do their bidding. We’re not to be underestimated.”

“I have never once made the mistake of underestimating you, Matias. My mistake was not anticipating that one day you would do the same,” Snoke said. He leant heavily onto one hand and crooked a finger for Hux to come closer. 

Every inch of his flesh crawled at the silent command. Hux wanted nothing more than to leave this animated corpse behind and return to his throne room. His teeth bared in an approximation of a smile, Hux stepped to the man’s side. This close he couldn’t ignore the rattling sound that accompanied each rancid breath. Yet still the king lingered on, clinging desperately to life. 

“Tell me, what has occurred to merit the recruitment of the Mandalorian army? Are our own troops not sufficient?” Snoke rasped. 

Ah. He’d heard. Hux refused to let his false smile fall. He had better control than that, and it had been inevitable that the news would make its way to the king. He’d only anticipated that it would take longer. “Our troops excel at certain tasks. Reacting to smaller skirmishes is not one of them,” Hux explained. “The Mandalorians pride themselves in such situations.”

Snoke would not be deterred. “And why are we anticipating skirmishes? Primus marches for order through war not treachery,” he said. 

Pivoting, Hux gestured to the city that lay beyond the king’s curtained windows. “With the vastly increased civilian activity, there has been some regrettable and unavoidable unrest between certain fiefdoms that now fall under our control. They resent one another or resent their lot in having yielded and seek out any chance to stir up issue with any who cross them. So, I wished to be prepared. Mercenaries are a cheap if blunt tool to stem further troubles,” Hux said. 

He held his tongue in detailing any of the particular groups that were causing issues. It wouldn’t do to mention how a great many of them sought equal or greater grievance with the Mandalorian mercenaries that were being used to subdue them. The king was ailing, not ignorant. He would call Hux on the apparently foolish decision or stumble upon the reasoning behind it. 

Snoke’s chest rattled once more as he considered Hux’s answer. His cough would return soon. “Your decision appears wise. I wonder if there is more that could have been done without resorting to paid violence, but for now it shall stand,” Snoke finally said.

“They are pressure to avoid violence, my king,” Hux corrected. “A weapon present yet not drawn unless in defense of peace.”

Wet eyes rimmed in tacky reside narrowed. Hux longed to focus on anything other than the king’s putrid, waxy face. Yet still he was forced to remain. “Weapons do not need to be drawn to defend oneself,” Snoke growled. 

Hux opened his mouth to question the remark only to find himself facing a more pressing demand. From under his pillow, the king had unsheathed a knife nearly the length of Hux’s own forearm. Its blade was finely honed, its tip tapering quickly down to a point which bobbed mere inches from Hux’s face. 

“It would seem that you counter your own point,” Hux choked out. He watched for the king’s expression rather than the blade itself; if Snoke was about to lash out by the time the blade moved Hux would be unable to react. 

Seconds dragged out between the two men. Hux had only allowed himself to lean away from the knife’s point, his body rigid. To react otherwise would mean that he feared the pathetic collection of bone and fetid flesh in front of him. Snoke’s lips peeled back in a grim smile. Slowly, he dropped the knife to the mattress, leaning heavily on his hand now. 

“Yes, I suppose that I have. Perhaps I have unfairly judged your decisions, Matias. Though I wonder if I shouldn’t keep my own weapon just as close to defend myself,” Snoke drawled. He opened his mouth to continue on but before he could subject Hux to another rambling comment or outright criticism, Snoke’s face went ashen. 

Without warning, he twisted in on himself and began to hack once again. However this time he gasped for breath, agony turning his face into something mottled and cursed. The blade fell to the ground from the force of his frantic movements. Hux edged away. He covered his mouth and nose with a hand out of instinct. 

The physician returned. Even behind the red gauze fluttering about their face, Hux could discern panic. This was not normal. The potion should have held the coughs at bay, not bottled them into the spasms that now wracked the king’s ancient form. Snoke lashed out with a clawed hand and rasped a command for the physician to leave him be. There was nothing they could do for him. Slowly, painfully, he regained control over his breaths. 

Hux stood idle, watching with narrowed eyes as each new breath leveled out the next. He let his hand drop once the air stilled. 

Between shallow gasps of air, Snoke issued an order to Hux. “Call for my scribes. I wish to appoint an heir.”

Treatment was failing. Snoke was grasping for the last thing that he could control: his throne. 

* * *

Rey stood silent, her focus entirely on the wooden door just a few scant feet ahead of her. Behind there her new liegelord worked. She hadn’t seen Lord Hux since the… celebration of her swearing fealty two evenings ago. Departing his chambers, she had been swept into a whirlwind of destinations and duties to formalize her acceptance into Primus’ rank of knights. Her new position, so readily accepted, had her passed between military and palace personnel for each waking hour the past two days.

All the equipment she had travelled with and long used was taken in and exchanged for newer, undented, and meticulously crafted replacements. Everything from her breastplate to her belt matched the careful styling of the champion’s own armor. All save for her hand and a half sword. 

They could replace her daggers, her platemail, her tunic but not the weapon that was an extension of her own self. Though Rey was more than capable of using any blade handed her, she would be damned if she would choose any over the blue-grey steel she carried now. The armory master offered to set the smiths to merely altering to pommel to also match Kylo’s. She firmly refused. Nothing would change on the weapon that had bested Primus’ Knight Champion. 

When the barrage of “go there, come here” finally abated, Rey was left outside of the regent’s chambers. Her newly given clothes had Lord Hux’s personal crest adorning her breast. She didn’t concern herself with the curious glances of the master tailor’s staff when they’d handed over the clothes. Her purpose for selecting the Lord as her liege had nothing to do with the finery that came with his patronage. 

No, Rey cared about the identity of her family that she had been promised on sword point. She raised her hand and knocked deftly on the door. The question of whether or not her visit was proper had been firmly shut away. She wanted answers and her liege lord had sworn to give them. 

“Enter,” Lord Hux’s voice called. When Rey stepped into the room she was surprised to see the regent working alone. Surely he would have a page or scribe to take the pages away rather than forcing him to roll each up tightly and seal them himself. Sunlight streamed through an open window that tried to coax a breeze into the stuffy castle, and the sun caught on the Lord’s ring with each movement. Each press of the seal into freshly melted wax represented the regent’s wishes, the greatest in the land save for Primus’ absent king. So focused on the simple, repetitive motions of the regent was Rey that she missed his greeting. He cleared his throat and folded his hands, causing Rey to regard his face finally.

“My apologies,” Rey said, sweeping down to one knee. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Her gaze switched to the base of his desk. Falling back on decorum would be the rational thing to do. 

Hux told her to stand. “Let me get a look at you,” he said, stepping away from his work to approach. Rey rolled her shoulders, settling the new cloth better. Her tunic and pants were both in a dark grey without quite plunging into the black that she’d seen under Kylo’s armor. The regent’s heraldry on her chest was stitched in bright golds and crimsons, clear as the sun in the sky. Her belt bore her sword whose pommel she grasped in one hand for want of something to do with her hands. 

It was surreal, to be the object of another’s full attention. Hux’s gaze examined every inch of her not with the fixation of a man hungry for her form but of one basking in it. He stepped to her side, his fingers brushing against her chin for a brief moment. “This may name me a cruel man, but I’m not sorry if this scars,” he murmured. 

He was speaking of the thin red cut along Rey’s cropped hairline. It was where her braid had been, the symbol of her old allegiance. Kylo had cut her along with the plaited hair under Hux’s orders. Rey asked, “Why do you hate them so much, the Jedi?” She didn’t wonder why he didn’t care if it scarred. Hux was a man of power, of dominance. It was in the way his chest puffed out when spying his own house on her clothes. He would love for his actions to stand permanent on her skin. 

“They’re a relic of a bygone age,” Hux replied. It was a non-answer, and he freed her from his gaze finally to stride back to his desk. Distancing himself. Rey stepped closer, emboldened by her brash side and by how casually he was addressing her. 

“They don’t exactly threaten the influence of Primus,” Rey countered, “so you must object on more fundamental grounds.”

He grimaced. “I have no such strong feelings of my own except that they held a firm grip on my Champion’s heart for far too long. And, regardless of their own holdings, their order spreads its influences to anyone who may listen. Even here,” Hux spat. 

Rey snorted. “No strong feelings indeed,” she said. Dropping the subject seemed wise, though, rather than continuing to prod. She’d gotten her answer. Onwards to the point of her visit. “I had wondered if within the past day you might have recalled my request and considered it further,” Rey said. 

Hux’s forehead creased. The motion was too controlled, too planned. He knew exactly what she was referring to and yet was putting on a show. Nobles were all the same, it seemed. “About your heritage, was that it?” Hux said. 

Rey nodded tightly. “It’s the only thing I’ll ask for. I didn’t seek your patronage for money, power, or influence. Only my identity,” she replied quietly. 

Fingers tapping, Hux regarded the blank space above Rey’s head. Some calculation, some plot was stirring under that plain gold circlet. “I have a task that I need completed,” he finally said, chewing over each word before finally releasing them. “It must be done without question.”

His eyes flicked to hers before returning to open air. Spying her reaction to what he was dancing around not saying aloud. Do this task and receive the answer. 

“You know,” Rey said flatly. “Yet you hold my namesake ransom.” She felt no pride in seeing his shoulders drop and his jaw clench. Crossing her arms across her chest, Rey raised an eyebrow.

She spoke since he would not. “I won’t pretend to be well versed in the shifting sands of the power games here, so perhaps this is simply the norm. But I swore on steel to be your knight. I would have done this unquestionable task happily regardless of reward. My fealty was not so easily given, no matter what you may think of we aged, relic knights,” she spat. 

A moment passed, an exchange of breaths. “House Veruna,” Hux said. 

Rey narrowed her eyes. “Pardon?”

Hux sighed heavily and sank into his chair. Rey stood above the regent. At some point she’d begun to grip the edge in front of her. She loosened her hold and rested her knuckles on the wooden surface instead as she waited for him to explain. 

Hux gestured out beyond his chambers. “Your namesake. I’m nearly certain of it. Your features bear a keen resemblance to a king of one of the core lands of Primus. He is long dead, I might add, but I visited the tapestries once again yesterday. Your family did indeed come from here, at least upon initial examination,” he admitted. 

Veruna. The name sat heavy on Rey’s tongue. Her lips silently mouthed the word once, twice. Rey Veruna. Descended from nobility. 

“Of course the kingdom was seized by King Snoke’s first conquest, so there isn’t much to claim. Perhaps that was why you were not born here,” Hux mused. “Still, it is as whole of an answer that I have right now.”

It didn’t matter, she found. Nobility long dead was still something to have, to hold. Her new identity was wrapped up in Hux’s title. That was expected and she was at peace. Now, to also know she had truly come from this land, she felt contentment.

“Thank you,” Rey breathed. Her confidence in the man before her was mending. To have her oath be so casually considered had wounded her. Perhaps now, though, Lord Hux would understand what it meant to value loyalty. 

Hux twisted in his chair, apparently torn between rising or remaining where he sat. He settled on extending a hand to brush against her knuckles. “I do still swear to find any further answers you may want. My resources will be at your disposal,” he said. It wasn’t an apology, not directly. But it was something. He pulled his hand back, softness falling back behind careful composure once more.

“Now, may we discuss the events of tonight. I have concerns about the safety of Primus’ future that I believe you may be able to assist with.”

* * *

In the way befitting a kingdom of conquerors, the two week carnival was scheduled to end with a gala that would stretch on until dawn. The chefs had been preparing all week to create the spread of foods representing Primus’ many territories. And of course there was the agony of presenting oneself in the most ostentatious way possible.

Rey eyed the posturing nobles and upper-class common folk parading about from her current position a few steps down from the regent’s dias. Why they were so focused on snatching a conversation with one another rather than the massive roast boar at the center of the feast table, she’d never understand. The story going around was that the regent had speared the beast himself. Rey smirked. She’d seen Kylo yesterday riding back to the stables, page and cart in tow, with what probably constituted half the King’s Forest ready to be dressed. The boar had taken up nearly all the cart on its own, snout lolling off the edge. 

Ah well. Such was the way things were. Rey picked her way across the crowd to approach the feast table. Story or not, she could still enjoy the food. Platters that had been picked clean were taken away by scurrying, furtive servants to be replaced with ones heavy with exotic fruits, glazed meats, or delicately baked delights. Rey hacked off a leg from a small hen. She wasn’t actively assigned to guard the regent yet she still wanted her hands free from the clutter of a plate and tableware. Plus, sitting involved finding a spot where no one would speak to her. She had made enough of a name of herself in the fighting pit where she was certain-

“Hey, you’re that fighter. The one that beat me out for the final contest.” Rey closed her eyes and counted to three. Then she turned her head enough to briefly make eye contact and nod. A woman well over a head taller than herself towered nearby. Rey grinned. Ah, that one. Brutal strikes, no shield. When she’d swung her axe, either Rey moved or she lost use of whatever limb had been hit. 

Rey swallowed and shifted her food to her other hand. After quickly wiping away the grease she extended her hand in a proper greeting. “Sir Rey. And I’m sorry about that, sort of,” Rey replied. 

The woman matched her grin. She was missing several teeth whose gaps were now replaced with what looked to be bronze. “Phasma,” she said. “You shouldn’t apologize. It was a good fight to lose. Next time though, next time I’ll get you and get my boon from the kingdom.” She released Rey’s hand with one final squeeze. Rey noted that the woman hadn’t claimed a knight’s title. Well, that was fine. She had still be an admirable contestant in the bout. 

They settled into a companionable silence as Rey finished her leg. Phasma ripped chunks from a loaf of bread she’d taken, matching glares with the noblewomen who thought to judge her for it. This was company that Rey could appreciate, a fellow fighter. No need for talking when words weren’t needed. 

Rey threw the bones in with the remains of what may have been a suckling pig. Later in the evening the meats and cheeses would be replaced for fruits and even sweet pies. For now she was content to wait and return to watching the people around her. Her attention went back to the fellow soldier resting against the wall next to her. “What were you going to ask for if you had won?” Rey asked, admittedly curious. 

Phasma swallowed and tossed her next hunk of bread in the air rather than eat it. “Wanted my freedom. My contract torn up,” she replied. 

“Contract?” Rey pressed. Her history had been in Jakku and then with the Jedi knights. She’d certainly heard of mercenary work and understood the basic concept. Perhaps not enough, though, as Phasma sighed heavily. 

“I belong to a unit, and my allegiance is sworn to them. The only reason we’re in the city right now is because they’ve made an accord with Primus. I want out. Seemed an easy solution right there. Win a king’s favor and be free to choose my own path,” she explained. 

Rey grunted, though not in understanding. Whether or not she was sworn to a code or to coin, Phasma would still have to obey someone beyond her. “Yet you’re not mad that I stole your freedom from you,” Rey commented.

Phasma lifted one shoulder and chomped on another piece of bread. “Found my own way out,” she replied vaguely. 

“You did?” 

Rey stiffened as Phasma turned and stepped one foot between Rey’s. It set a flush to Rey’s cheeks and ears. Phasma’s lips next to Rey’s ear, she muttered, “There are more ways to win a man’s favor than through spectacle. I imagine you know what I mean, vassal.” 

Moving away was impossible with the wall behind her. Rey couldn’t put more than an extra inch of distance between them. “I may,” Rey replied darkly. “Though I don’t rely on base urges to get where I need to.”

Phasma leaned back, her head tipping slightly. Then, she laughed. “Oh,  _ that _ . No, I don’t either. Not my preferred pleasure,” she commented. She had been oblivious of the implication that she’d set. Or perhaps her close contact had been intended to indicate her preferred pleasure in Rey.

Rey cleared her throat and side-stepped from Phasma’s towering form. They were still far too close together. “Another time, perhaps,” Rey said. 

“A shame. I heard your lord likes to share. Though my own time to dance this evening is too slim to find out.” Phasma edged closer as though they were sharing some great secret. “I still think you know what may be coming this night. Yes?” Phasma pressed.

* * *

Kylo was glowering. His mood had been as such for nearly the entire evening. At least yesterday he had been able to escape the circus that was the capital during this horrible, miserable event, sating his frustration with bow and arrow and belt knife. Tonight he had no such refuge. He lingered at Hux’s elbow glaring at anyone who dared to consider him for more than a moment.

Normally such horrible treatment would irk the regent. Tonight though his attention was fleeting at best as he stared above the crowd’s beyond the open hall doors. Hux and distracted was a foreign combination. Kylo might have considered asking had he not still been gnawing at the same worry that Hux was going to replace him with that runt who had bested him. Rey. 

His eyes flicked to find her again. She had floated around the gala, a dark shadow just the same as him. Perhaps that was intentional with her presentation. She hadn’t entertained the notion of a gown, mocking him still with her blue-grey sword on her hip. Of course it didn’t make sense to abandon the comfortable, efficient wardrobe that Hux’s guard wore. And she was right to wear it as his new vassel. 

Still, Kylo didn’t appreciate seeing the weapon which had scarred him a scant two days prior. His fingers went again to his face. He wished once again that he might have remained out of the public view at least until it healed. The wound had scabbed, thick pieces that stung when Kylo’s expression twisted too much.

He grimaced, the frown deepening as it pulled on the wound again. He had to stop messing with it, but that seemed impossible when he once again regarded the one who had placed it on him. She had moved again, now by the feast table along the opposite edge of the room. She wasn’t alone, either, now in the company of a mercenary. Kylo huffed. 

He’d lived in Primus since before it  _ was  _ Primus. Their people hated outsiders, even more so now as the continual quest for further territory seized greater gains. The treasury grew - as did Hux’s pride - but so did the variety of the populace. Bringing in foreign mercenaries to act as peace-keepers in Primus was as foolish as paying a thief to guard one’s home. 

Rey and her companion were too far away for Kylo to tell what they were discussing, never mind the minstrels playing for the dancers. Still, Rey certainly looked more than friendly with the woman. They were quite close, murmuring to one another before looking out on the others around them. Kylo considered leaving his post to investigate - Hux certainly wouldn’t notice, not while he was so distracted - until they parted ways. Rey threaded her way to another section of the room, her gaze sweeping in familiar motions. Keeping a ready eye out. The other woman vanished, which immediately unsettled Kylo.

No one left an event like this suddenly. Sure, soldiers didn’t care for the same political maneuvering that the nobility did, but there was food and wine free-flowing. Kylo’s paranoia redoubled as his study of Rey showed her carefully checking her weapons. When she twisted to adjust her weapons belt, Kylo spied chain mail glinting under her collar. 

His opinion of her dropped further. There was no reason - no noble, clear-hearted reason - to hide ones mail while at a function such as this. Kylo had a set in a nearby antechamber, but if he had truly wanted to be armored it wouldn’t have been unusual provided it was apparent. 

Kylo turned to mention the oddity to Hux. He had been careful to remain as neutral as possible regarding Rey. He couldn’t let his past failure in battle cloud his judgement. But this, this seemed far from acceptable. “My lord, a word?” Kylo murmured. 

Hux dragged his attention from whatever empty space he’d been regarding to Kylo. “Yes?” he snapped. Perhaps now wasn’t as good a time. He wouldn’t have time to wonder.

Thundering in through the ballroom entrance, a mounted palace guard yanked fiercely on her mount’s reigns. “Don’t panic!” she shouted. It did no good. Seeing a full-sized warhorse storming through the palace halls had a rather opposite effect. People scattered. The guardswoman pointed to her counterparts, barking commands to seal the doors and take up defensive positions. A fire had started and raced beyond any control, consuming homes and businesses alike in the lower city. Worse, the Mandalorians had apparently decided this was the time to pillage the burning homes of citizens or so was being claimed. 

The capital was in chaos. Kylo hissed. He grabbed Hux by the shoulders, pushing him out a rear false wall into a wide passageway. If it had taken this long for word of the fire to reach them then who knew how long it would take for further information to reach the palace guard. Hux protested the rough handling, finally assenting as Kylo hissed his reasoning to him. 

“Fire breeds panic. Panic breeds anger. And who do you think that anger will be directed at? Their fellow peasants or the nobility still partying atop the hill in their gilded tower?” Kylo spat. He grabbed Hux’s wrist and directed him down a different hall. They weren’t going in the right direction to get his mail, but he did know of a cache only one short detour away. 

“There’s the guard,” Hux snarled. “Peasants can’t best their steel. You’re overreacting.”

Kylo glowered at his noble charge. Sometimes it was difficult to recall his pledge to protect the man and the throne he sat in. “For all your blessed intelligence, leave assessing danger to those who know it well. Do you really think none have heard of your quarrel with the king?” he said. That finally shut the man up. 

Kylo nodded brusquely before dragging them into the cache. Slamming the door shut, he gestured to the small collection of armor around them.

“Lest you get a dagger to your back from an assassin just  _ waiting _ for this opportunity, find something that will fit,” Kylo barked. He fastened Hux into a breastplate before equipping himself in his own. A full set would slow them down, so he tried to choose wisely. Time was not on their side. He couldn’t spare a moment to reconsider his decisions. 

Shoving a shortsword into Hux’s hands, Kylo paused for one precious moment. “If something happens to me, you have to be prepared,” Kylo insisted. He held Hux’s gaze until the man nodded.

“I can’t bear to think of something befalling you,” he admitted. Without waiting for a response - he didn’t need to hear one - Kylo yanked the door open. His blade at the ready, Kylo stared down the hall before exposing the regent. There was a rumble to the air, a thread of panic pervading the very fabric of the castle. White armored guards trotted in formation. He and Hux moved against the current, away from the fevered defensive response. 

Their destination wasn’t deeper within the castle fortifications. Kylo nudged Hux away from that direction, bringing them into the tunnels that fed into the foundation of the castle instead. A few servants dared to be in Kylo’s way. One received a gash on their arm for daring to try to grab him in panic. “The palace is under attack!” he shrieked, clutching his bloody forearm.

Kylo snarled. They had to keep moving. He pushed Hux into moving faster, increasing their forced march. 

The tunnels darkened. A lantern snatched from a scullery maid lit the few feet in front of them. Kylo bared his teeth at every shadow. His blood pounded for a threat to demolish. Still, the point of escaping this way was to avoid the bloodbath that would certainly endanger Hux. 

“Where are we going? The safe rooms aren’t this deep within,” Hux insisted. How he was talking with the stitch he was grabbing in his side, Kylo couldn’t guess. He’d hoped the man wouldn’t have questioned their path but, well, that wouldn’t be the man he knew.

Kylo slowed his pace. Their light was weak. If they moved too swiftly, they would easily be ambushed. “I told you, I fear an assassin’s blade. What better place to strike than to the room that the king expects you to flee to?” Kylo said. 

That was it for the discussion. That was all the time they could afford for it. The tunnels didn’t reach to the plot of land that Kylo was bringing them to. They would have to come out to open air. 

As though summoned by his worries, the lantern light revealed dark oak rather than hewn stone. The exit. Kylo glanced behind him. Hux’s expression was dark as he was finally shaken from his shock. He touched Kylo’s shoulder, the sensation lost to the plating he wore. 

“I can’t bear to think of something befalling you, either,” Hux murmured. “I’m  _ ordering  _ you to stay alive.”

Kylo gripped Hux’s hand. There would be time later for softness, but he would allow himself this one moment now, in case there was no later. 

* * *

Kylo’s plan relied too much on secrecy. Hux would protest, but it  _ was _ a better one than his. He chomped down on that thought and pressed his face more firmly into Kylo’s back. They retrieved a horse from one of the garrisons they passed by. Kylo refused to tell the guards there their destination until Hux overruled him. He couldn’t protect them solely on his own. They needed backup, even if word did get to assassins that Hux was there. And day was breaking. They could easily be tracked. The sun crept over the horizon, bathing the city further in orange hues.

Fire had ravaged the districts. Hux covered his face with a handkerchief to keep from inhaling the black smoke that curled and buffeted in the air. Nothing was untouched by the fire and riots. Even the pristine white stone of the castle have been marred with blood and soil. Hux pondered just how many of the guards have perished, defending an empty castle. 

Not an empty castle. Inside still held the true king and his yet unnamed heir. Hux gritted his teeth. It would be worth it, Hux thought, for all this chaos if it could finally jar the dying man’s grasp on his kingdom. 

They rode past another guard post, this one at one of the smaller gates to the city. They paused to change horses and it was then that they heard the first murmurs of, “The king is dead. Long live the king.”

Kylo started and Hux did his best to avoid the man’s newly brandished weapon that followed his gaze. “What do you mean the king is dead?” he barked. “Speak!” Hux listened, not daring to believe the news.

The guard who had spoken paled when faced with the Champion’s blade. “A-a rioter. Or an assassin. Someone broke into the royal bedchambers. The people are shouting it from the rooftops practically.”

Hux stepped up and gently pressed on the flat of Kylo’s sword. Kylo was in a state of pure bewilderment, not understanding what the man in front of them was saying. He wasn’t in control. Hux turned to the guard. “Have you confirmed this?” he asked.

The guard squinted, looking past the mud that stained Hux’s finery and the heavy plate mail on his chest. Recognition flared in his eyes as the guard recognized the man in front of him for who he was. The thrum of pleasure that came from power recognized was one that Hux would never be able to ignore, not now when his position was so clear. “M’lord, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you,” the guard said, sweeping into a low bow.

“Well?” Hux pressed.

The guard blanched once again. “We haven’t confirmed. We should know soon, though. The Mandalorians have finally re-joined the city guard and order should be restored soon, we hope. Then we’ll know,” he said. 

That seemed to be enough to spur Kylo into motion once again. He sheathed his sword without further word, hauling himself and Hux atop their new mount. Hux let him, clutching the man around the middle. “It wasn’t your fault,” Hux whispered. Kylo said nothing for the rest of the ride, silent and stern. 

Upon arriving to their destination, Kylo began barking orders for the guards that followed them to sweep the property for hidden dangers. He nudged the quivering horse to the stables. They hadn’t ridden with much care for the animal. Hux started as he saw Kylo’s page emerge from the building to take the reins. “This is your property? The Amidala estate?” Hux murmured. Kylo nodded. Somehow along the way, among the lies and truths he traded as currency to fuel his rise, Hux had forgotten his own champion’s past. 

Kylo wasn’t satisfied with simply entering the estate to hide in. Hux was herded into a basement room and locked inside, alone. Hux shrugged out from the armor he’d been handed. If assassins came now, the breastplate would do little if they’d bested Kylo’s guardsmen. It was an unexpected agony, sitting there. Waiting. Primus was burning and he was hiding. 

Hux ran his hands through his hair, fingers gripping the strands in fervent tugs. Everything he’d done and planned, this was its outcome. Manipulating his knight and his vassal into protecting him and only him. A city sacrificed to pay for his power. 

He thought of Rey’s eyes and how they had narrowed and hardened when he levered her one, simple request against her. He had promised her truth and accepted her blade before twisting his words into a demand. She had been right to call him out; her loyalty should have been enough. When had he decided to not trust his own people?

Hux leapt to his feet as Kylo pounded on the door. “Lift the bar,” he bellowed. “Let me in.” When Kylo entered, he was practically shaking, unrelieved tension still needing release. 

Hux ached to say something, to do something to comfort him. But there was nothing he could do. This was Kylo’s task - to protect the ruler of Primus. He’d failed to protect the true king. To not be able to protect the regent, that would kill him. Hux could no more change Kylo than he could direct the sun to set again. 

So he stiffened, listened to Kylo’s report of the men and women standing watch of the estate, and did nothing. “I have a thought,” Kylo said when he had completed his description of the various watch patrols he had the guards on. Hux regarded him carefully. Was that tension in his shoulders increasing still? What could have his champion so disturbed?

“I believe that this is too perfect to have been coincidence,” Kylo said. He paced, his sprawling gait quickly eating up the small basement space. He turned nearly every three steps. “This bears the stench of conspiracy. The Mandalorians, the fire, the assassination. It’s all too much for one day especially on the final day of the carnival.”

Hux fell easily into his old ways, carefully controlled his expression, studying his champion. Did he suspect? Could he have been too bold in his planning, his execution? Of course Kylo was right to suspect. He should tell him outright, right now. Yet Hux felt his tongue unwilling to act.

Kylo turned to look at Hux. “I think the Jedi could be behind this. They could have conspired with the Mandalorian army - or at least those here - and devised this plan. Planting Rey, having her get so close to you. It’s only chance that I was able to get you out from her reach before she could have hurt you,” he said, his voice reaching a fever pitch.

The gods had a funny sense of humor as they chose this moment for backup to arrive at the estate. Knocking came on the basement door, the only warning before a tornado of grey and steel. Metal clashed with metal as Kylo heaved his entire weight at Rey’s form. She had only seconds to respond and only managed to deflect Kylo’s attack onto the stone floor instead of her shoulder.

He wasn’t deterred. “See!” he roared. “She comes now to kill you, Hux!” He lashed out once again at Rey, whirling to add further force to his strike. She deflected again. 

“Kylo!” Hux bellowed, finally finding his voice. “Stop at once!”

It wasn’t enough. Kylo was a force of nature, not a man. He’d failed King Snoke; he would not fail Hux. Primus was all that mattered to him, to his fault. Hux leapt forward as Kylo managed to disarm Rey. Fear shone in her eyes as Kylo stalked around her and kicked her dropped sword past Hux. 

“She has his blade, Hux,” Kylo spat. It was true. Rey brandished Snoke’s dagger in her hand, her final protection. Her eyes watched Kylo alone. She moved when he did, leaping away from his next strike and throwing the small blade up as her sole shield. “She killed him. There’s still blood on her hands.”

Hux did the only thing that he could do to stop Kylo. He leapt forward, shoving her to the ground and hovering atop her before Kylo could strike. Exposing his back to the whistling steel was madness, through and through. But he would not have Kylo kill his vassal. 

It was enough to break through the blind rage. Something akin to an animal cry left Kylo’s lips, and Hux heard his sword clatter to the ground. “Why?” 

Rey scrambled out from Hux’s arms, dropping the dagger in the process. She held up both empty hands. “He told me to. To kill the king. Tonight, when the riots started,” Rey explained. Her voice rose in pitch, from panic to be sure.

“Is this true?” Kylo asked. Hux rolled to his back and sat up. His energy was spent, gone. 

Hux nodded. It was time to confess. “Aye. I ordered her to,” he said gruffly. He looked to the open door. Rey eyed Kylo carefully as she skirted past him to shut it. What they spoke of here couldn’t leave the room they were in. Hux felt his final reserve of strength collapse once the heavy bar snapped once again over the door. 

“The rest you spoke of, it’s true. It was no coincidence that the Mandalorians abandoned their job. It wasn’t a Jedi plot but mine,” Hux said. 

Kylo’s head moved from one to the other. Confusion still twisted his face. “Why?” he breathed.

“The king was to name an heir. I had no time to wait out a slow death any longer. And poison would have been unreliable with how many tonics and poultices he consumed,” Hux explained. Kylo shook his head.

“No, why  _ her _ ,” his eyes narrowed once again in Rey’s direction. 

She rolled her shoulders. “Because you’re sworn to protect the crown, no matter the man underneath. I’m sworn to the Lord,” she explained simply. 

Hux nodded again. There were greater nuances he had convinced himself of as well. Kylo had risen to power not under Hux’s reign but Snoke’s. He may have hesitated. No, it had been cleaner to use his new weapon before anyone had time to study her, to learn her cues. 

“I… still don’t understand.” Kylo collapsed, his grieves thudding on the floor. His protests were spent, finally. Hux could see it in his eyes. Kylo rolled to his side, his head resting on Hux’s feet. “But I accept. So long as you are safe,” he murmured. 

Hux shifted with a grunt, nudging Kylo to rest his head on his thigh instead. The relief he felt as the man moved closer, still nuzzled into his touch rather than flinch away, was greater even than the rush he’d felt when the guard knew him. 

He carded his fingers through Kylo’s tangled locks. “Of course,” Hux replied. “I have a duty to my subjects to remain alive.”

Rey grinned toothily from the door. Hux flicked his wrist to summon her as well. She wasn’t so tired as to collapse like Kylo, but she did rest her back against Hux’s shoulder, on watch. Hux gathered Rey’s hand in one and Kylo’s in his other, and he pressed a kiss against both. “This is the birth of a new nation. A renewed Primus. And you’ve both given it to me. I won’t forget that.”

**Author's Note:**

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